Perfect Strangers

‘No, it’s the young lady we want to talk to,’ said the smaller man. ‘If that’s all right with you?’ He had a strange accent with an upwards glide. Eastern European? Polish or Russian, she thought.

‘Well, I’m afraid it’s not a good time at the moment,’ said Josh. ‘My wife and I were just in the middle of something.’ He smiled. ‘Bit of a domestic, if I’m honest. So if you could perhaps come back later . . .?’

The small man looked at Josh, then up at the bouncer type next to him.

‘A lovers’ tiff, that’s all it is,’ he said to the big man.

‘Exactly,’ said Josh. ‘You understand.’

The smaller man’s face was cold and expressionless.

‘Get rid of him, Tomas.’

The gorilla lunged forward but Josh was too quick; pivoting backwards and swinging his foot up, he caught the man mountain right between the legs.

‘Run, you silly cow!’ shouted Josh, grabbing her hand and yanking her along the road.

Sophie didn’t need telling twice; she kicked off her shoes and sprinted as fast as her legs would carry her, her bag banging against her hip. She didn’t know who those men were, but she had no doubt that they meant her harm. And she could be fairly sure that the one Josh had kicked in the balls would be pretty bloody angry if he ever caught up with them. She could see the end of the road and put on an extra burst of speed, trying to make the corner.

It was just then that she heard a deafening crack. As her body shook, she realised she’d been hit. She gasped and time seemed to stop. She closed her eyes and waited for it – a searing pain as her brain registered the wound from a bullet. But there was nothing. She tore her bag off her shoulder and saw a hole that had ripped through the fabric of the side pocket.

Josh grabbed her wrist again. Her hands were shaking but she knew she had to keep moving.

‘This way,’ he ordered, pulling her into an alleyway blocked by an old iron bollard. At least the men wouldn’t be able to drive down here, thought Sophie. She didn’t dare turn around to check whether they were still chasing; she just concentrated on running, her bare feet slapping against the cobbles, her lungs gasping. Left, right, she followed Josh through the passageways of what looked like a disused warehouse complex, her bare feet stinging on the concrete. She couldn’t keep going much longer, but she knew she had to. At the end of the alleyway, Josh pulled her into another narrow passage, which ended in a locked gate. Sophie looked around desperately: there was no way out, only the alley they had just run down and, on closer inspection, the gate appeared to be rusted solid.

‘Where are we going?’ she panted. ‘Josh, they’re coming!’

‘I know that,’ he snapped.

‘And he’s got a gun.’

He flashed her a look. ‘You’ve worked that out, have you?’ he said sarcastically. Without waiting for an answer, he pulled her bag up above her head.

‘What are you doing?’ she objected.

‘Put your foot in here,’ he said, pointing to the bars on the front of the gate. ‘We’re going over.’

Sophie looked upwards just as Josh tossed her bag up and over the brickwork arch at the top of the gate. She quickly hoisted herself up, scrabbling for handholds, her toes slipping.

‘I can’t . . .’ she said desperately as she began to wobble.

‘Yes, you can,’ he said, giving her a shove in the backside which sent her toppling over the arch and sliding down the other side, the stone scraping the skin on her right-hand side. She barely had time to draw a breath before Josh landed on top of her.

‘Ouch,’ she squealed.

He scrambled to his feet, pulled her up against him and clamped his hand over her mouth. Her cheek pressed against his chest and she could hardly move.

It was then that she heard thumping footsteps. There was no mistaking the sound: the men were pounding into the alley. Sophie froze, every last nerve ending tingling, ears straining, not daring to breathe, hoping against hope that the shadows would hide them.

And suddenly the footsteps were receding in the other direction. Josh didn’t waste any time. He was up on his feet, dragging her along the short alleyway, but they didn’t have very far to go. Sophie looked at him, her eyes wide. The alleyway ended in a flight of stone steps which disappeared under the black waters of the Thames.

‘Don’t think about it, just go,’ hissed Josh. ‘It’s our only way out.’

‘You are joking?’ she whispered.

‘Do I look like I’m joking?’

He grasped her arm, hard, and his eyes locked with hers.